


...For A Human

by BottleRedRosie



Category: Cal Leandros - Rob Thurman
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-26 05:56:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21369262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BottleRedRosie/pseuds/BottleRedRosie
Summary: When Niko is abducted by a group of amoral pucks, he doesn’t believe there can be anything worse than being forced to wear a ridiculously skimpy costume.  But then again, he could be wrong...One shot, complete, Niko POV, warnings for threats of m/m noncon (no graphic content). Yet more Niko abuse.  Set soon after Double Take.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	...For A Human

**Author's Note:**

> Rating: T  
Words: 10,000  
Spoilers: Up to Double Take.  
Warnings: Language, mild violence, threats of m/m noncon.  
Summary: When Niko is abducted by a group of amoral pucks, he doesn’t believe there can be anything worse than being forced to wear a ridiculously skimpy costume. But then again, he could be wrong.  
One shot, complete, Niko POV, warnings for threats of m/m noncon (no graphic content). Yet more Niko abuse. Set soon after Double Take.  
Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
A/N: I’m not quite sure what Niko did to deserve the amount of abuse I put him through. Blame my latest re-read of Double Take!

**...FOR A HUMAN**

“Niko!”

There were times in one’s life when one was justified in hesitation.

Being summoned into the back of Robin Goodfellow‘s limousine with no chaperone could perhaps be described as one such time.

Robin was standing with the door to his cavernous vehicle open and waiting for me, and while I valued my friendship with the puck, trusted him with my life, and, perhaps more importantly, trusted him with my brother’s life, being trapped alone in the back of a car with him, his unbridled sex drive, and his much-vaunted (by him) sexual organ, was not a risk I was particularly willing to take.

I glanced over my shoulder at the two students I had just been giving some final pointers to on the history paper they had due in Monday, before heading home from my teaching assistant position at the university. They were still watching me, I suspect more interested in whether this was my friend, my boyfriend, my sugar daddy or a debt collector who had parked in a no loading zone just to pick me up after work.

From the expressions on their faces, they still weren’t sure, but Shanice had already attempted to ascertain my sexual orientation and availability on several occasions, and I did like to keep my private life private. Although Cal said I just liked having an air of mystery surrounding me, which I suppose was partially true. However, I’m not sure how any of my students would have taken the information that I was heterosexual but currently dating a centuries old vampire.

As I reluctantly headed towards Robin, however, I began to feel my hesitation might be more than justified.

Maybe it was the still-recent horror of The Panic fresh in my mind; maybe it was something else.

But something made me hesitate for a whole other reason than any concerns I might have had for my virtue.

“Robin?” And if it sounded like a question, that’s exactly what it was.

The puck looked at me for a second, his dazzling smile never faltering. “What’s wrong, Nik?” he asked

And that’s when I drew my sword.

I heard a gasp from the students behind me, but didn’t have the luxury of subtlety right now.

The puck frowned, taking a cautious step backwards.

“Did I do something to offend you?” he asked, but I didn’t pick up any concern in his voice. Just empty neutrality. Subterfuge. The careful words of a trickster.

But not careful enough.

“Only my brother calls me ‘Nik,’” I informed the puck. “No one else. And certainly not Robin Goodfellow.”

The puck raised an eyebrow. “Ah,” he said calmly. “I see. Well I was going to ask whether you wanted to do this the hard way or the easy way, but my hand appears to have been forced.”

I felt a sharp scratch against my neck before I even heard the footsteps, felt the breath on my cheek and the strong arm that wrapped itself around my torso.

And then I didn’t feel anything at all.

* * *

“The pucks are going to rip that boy to pieces,” I heard a voice pronounce.

I tried to open my eyes to see who had spoken, but my eyelids felt like lead weights and the only other things I was aware of were, firstly, a cold dampness underneath me and, secondly, the smell of stale sweat and urine surrounding me.

I was pretty sure the latter wasn’t coming from me, but with my current state of incapacitation I wasn’t entirely sure.

Finally summoning the strength to open my eyes, I quickly ascertained the smell was emanating from the three—four—five? men—creatures—Paien? crowding around me.

“He’s awake,” another of them said.

“Gods, look at him! They’re going to kill him!”

“And have a hell of a fun time doing it.”

“I wonder whether he ever thought in his wildest dreams he’d end up getting raped to death by a bunch of horny pucks?”

That last question certainly got my attention, and somehow I managed to find strength enough in my arms to sit myself up and reach for the place where my katana was supposed to be.

My katana was not where it was supposed to be.

And neither were any of the other ten or so blades I always kept about my person.

Realizing I was disarmed, disorientated and mostly likely had just been drugged, I managed to scoot myself backwards until my shoulder blades were pressed against a damp wall so at least no one would be able to attack me from behind.

The persons gathered in front of me took this as a sign that I was afraid of them. Which may have been true, but I wasn’t prepared to confirm that.

“Where am I?” I demanded, trying to blink the haze from my eyes as I attempted to search about me for my weapons. My long coat was gone, along with all my blades, but at least whoever had disarmed me had left me otherwise fully clothed.

Which, if this was anything to do with pucks, was a mercy indeed.

“Probably the last place you would ever wish to be,” a voice said off to my left.

He was a peri, tall and built, scarred to his face with dark blond hair pulled back into a long ponytail.

He crouched down in front of me and I blinked at him as the rest of the room slowly came into focus, quickly ascertaining I appeared to be in a dungeon surrounded by five strangers, at least two of whom were peri, one was possibly a vampire from the pallor of his skin, another may have been a high breed wolf currently in human form, but the other one, I had no idea.

One thing they all had in common, however?

Blonds.

All of them.

Us.

All of us.

I sighed, rubbing a hand across my forehead. “Pucks,” I murmured shortly.

The peri nearest me nodded. “Pucks,” he confirmed.

“They don’t usually take humans,” the possible wolf said, leaning forward to sniff me inquisitively.

“Take us?”

“Here. They don’t usually bring humans here,” the second peri clarified.

“And why is that?” I asked, against my better judgement.

The other occupants of the dungeon glanced amongst one another, eyes downcast.

“Humans very rarely survive the first interview,” the vampire said.

I swallowed. “Interview?”

The wolf shrugged. “Interview. Orgy,” he said. “Gang bang. Whatever you’d like to call it.”

The first peri hissed at him. “Wix!” he spat. “Give the poor boy time to regain his senses before you start—”

“—Telling him how he’s going to die?” the wolf supplied. “I’m only being honest.”

The peri shook his head. “What’s your name, son?” he asked. He only looked to be in his mid-forties, but I was guessing he might be thousands of years old, so allowed him to address me as “son” without comment.

“Niko,” I said shortly. I took a breath, trying to compose myself while simultaneously choosing to ignore what Wix had just said. “You have me at a disadvantage…?”

“Umbriel,” the peri said. “You’ve met Wix,” he frowned at the wolf. “Edgar,” he introduced the vampire, “Malakai,” the other peri, “and that’s Tomas,” he indicated the fifth male, who just gazed at me placidly but said nothing. “He’s quiet,” Umbriel added.

And possibly an incubus, I decided upon further reflection.

“Where are we?” I asked again.

Umbriel shrugged. “They call it the Menagerie,” he said resignedly, glancing upwards.

I followed his gaze to the bars criss-crossing the space where there should have been a ceiling. Above the bars was utter darkness and I had no idea how high the darkness stretched.

I swallowed. “Menagerie of what?” I asked carefully, pretty sure I already knew the answer.

“Beautiful creatures,” Edgar the vampire sing-songed, chuckling humorlessly. He reached out and grabbed my jaw before I could do much of anything to stop him, turning my face from side to side to get a better look at me. “You certainly fit the bill,” he added. “For a human.”

“Stop playing with your food,” Wix admonished him, once again moving in to sniff at me, fangs slowly descending as he began his transformation into wolf.

“Wix,” Umbriel snapped again. “Stop that.”

Wix, surprisingly, did just that, returning sullenly to his human form, but not before getting his teeth a lot closer to my neck than was in any way comfortable.

“I—I think I was drugged,” I explained. “My friend, Robin. A puck was pretending to be him and I—I let my defences down.”

“You’re a friend of Robin Goodfellow?” Malakai asked. He was physically less intimidating than Umbriel, but still muscular and tall.

I nodded. 

A light snapped on behind the vampire’s eyes. “You’re the bartender!” he burst out, and I blinked at him.

“No,” I denied slowly. “My brother—”

“The one from The Panic!” Edgar continued.

“I—I may have—”

“Gods, Pius and Phobos, you were all they could talk about! The ‘sexy blond bartender with the ass as hot as Achilles’ himself!’ That’s you, right?”

I blinked at him again. Considering my recently deceased sperm donor’s claims to Achilles’ lineage and legacy, that was almost funny.

“That’s probably where they picked up your scent,” Wix said. “I hear it was pretty wild. How many of them had you that night?”

I frowned at him. “None of them,” I informed him shortly. “I made it very clear that the bartenders were off limits.”

“And they honored that?” Wix seemed fairly impressed.

I shrugged. “My brother did kill one of them. They just seemed to want to give me their money.”

“Well that’s clearly where they got the idea to bring you here,” Umbriel said. “They all hate Goodfellow. If it was known you were a friend to him, bringing you here and—and—”

“Raping you to death,” Wix again supplied.

“—Would seem good sport to them, especially if they’d already become enamored with you.”

“For ‘enamored,’” Wix sniggered, “substitute ‘horny as fuck and desperate to stick their oversized dicks into any part of you they can fit.’”

“Real subtle, Wix,” Malakai drawled, shaking his head.

“Or not fit,” Wix added. “They don’t really care. You know what ‘raped to death’ means, right?”

_ “Wix!” _

And this time Umbriel really wasn’t kidding.

It was at this point a metallic grinding noise caught my attention, and if I wasn’t mistaken, it was the sound of a key in the lock of the iron door over in the corner of the cell.

My companions froze, Umbriel rising to his feet and backing away from me as the door creaked open and five identical pucks entered the room.

One of them traced his fingers along Tomas’ cheekbone as he passed, another caught Edgar by his hair and pulled him into an enthusiastic kiss before releasing him.

Both Edgar and Tomas kept their eyes downcast, but I noted the peris and wolf silently seething behind fiery gazes, hooded eyes trained on the pucks approaching me.

“I suppose this is the interview,” I hazarded, rising shakily to my feet and only then realizing I was chained to the wall via a manacle around my right ankle. That could prove...encumbering. My feet were bare, my boots having been removed, and the uneven brickwork beneath me felt cold and damp.

The pucks approached me silently at first, all looking at me in a similar way to how Robin looked at me on occasion, how many—all—of the pucks had looked at me during The Panic.

I swallowed.

Me against five pucks? Armed, I might stand a chance. Chained, barefoot, weaponless…? I raised my chin defiantly. I _ still _stood a chance.

The puck in front of the others moved right on up to me until I was forced backwards and against the wall, and still he kept coming, finally pressing his hips against my own while his mouth hovered along my neck. I wasn’t sure whether he was smelling me, as Wix had, or whether he was just trying to intimidate me, but I turned my head away from him and resisted the urge to close my eyes. Or punch him in the face.

I needed to assess the opposition before I made a move.

And this one clearly didn’t have what I needed.

His hand moved to my waist, then to the small of my back, before gradually sliding lower.

“Ass like Achilles,” he murmured on an evil chortle.

“Is it true?” one of the other pucks asked him enthusiastically.

The one simultaneously groping me and nuzzling my neck paused to look at me before replying.

“Would you like to feel for yourself, Phobos?”

The second puck seemed more than pleased with that idea. “Out of the way, Pius,” he said, catching the first puck by the shoulder. “I never believed Goodfellow’s description of Achilles. You know how he’s prone to exaggerate.”

Pius snorted. “I saw Achilles,” he replied, taking a step away from me. “Goodfellow wasn’t exaggerating. This one?” he leered at me in a way that unaccountably reminded me of Hob. “Everything Achilles had and more.”

Phobos virtually pushed Pius out of the way, grabbing me around the waist and yanking me against him without a moment’s hesitation.

But then, I didn’t hesitate either.

Pius might not have had what I needed, but Phobos clearly did.

He seemed surprised when I snatched the short saber strapped to his thigh beneath his long jacket, spun him around and pressed the blade against his throat, his back now against my chest and the dagger that had been secreted in his waistband now in my left hand and pressed against his bulging crotch.

If Goodfellow was anything to go by, pucks did _ not _appreciate having their genitalia threatened in any way.

Phobos paused, the leer still plastered to his face, and I noticed one of the other pucks move his own hand downwards, clearly enjoying the show.

I swallowed. The Panic had been awkward, and a little bit terrifying, but I hadn’t been chained to a wall, and I had both Cal and Robin watching my back in case any of the other pucks had tried to force me to do anything I didn’t want to be doing with them.

Here, there was just me. I was outnumbered and restrained, but at least now I was armed.

“Any of you tries to touch me again,” I warned the pucks, “I’m cutting off whatever piece of your anatomy is closest to my blade.”

The puck standing next to the one currently pleasuring himself laughed at me. “You have spirit,” he informed me condescendingly. “For a human.”

“Pretty sheep needs shearing,” the fifth puck said, withdrawing a sword similar to Robin’s broadsword, and moving towards me.

I repositioned Phobos between myself and the other pucks, and he laughed rather incongruously. “Now, now, Argos,” he said. “Play nicely. It would be a shame to dispatch this one quickly when there is so much potential pleasure to be had with him.”

“I saw you at The Panic,” Argos, the one with the sword, told me. “Under the protection of Goodfellow and that abomination you call a brother.”

“I was under no one’s protection,” I told him, “and if you insult my brother again you’re going to find your insides on the outside.”

Argos’ expression became one of disgust. “Half Auphe monstrosity. We know what he did to Pan.”

“Pan deserved it,” I informed him, acutely aware of the identical looks of distaste and terror that had suddenly appeared on the faces of my fellow prisoners. “_He _insulted my brother, too.”

“Your reputation precedes you,” the fifth puck said. “Niko Leandros, brother to a monster, son to a whore, disowned by your father…”

“You make me sound like Maximus Decimus Meridius,” I told him dryly. “Robin once tried to convince me to dress as him for his Halloween party.”

“Now there’s an idea, Piper,” Argos suggested to the fifth puck. “Oil him up and dress him like Russell Crowe for the entertainment!”

The pucks had referred to the lili and lilitu as “the entertainment” during The Panic, and I shuddered when I remembered the things I’d seen being done to them over the course of the evening.

“I’m nobody’s ‘entertainment,’” I informed the pucks, pressing both blades a little closer to Phobos. “Now release me and I won’t harm any of you.”

The pucks paused for a second, before immediately bursting into a round of raucous laughter.

“Oh, little sheep, little sheep,” Piper said. “You really _ are _entertaining!”

“And that’s before we’ve even gotten you naked!” the puck with the self-satisfying hand added.

“Come now, Prank,” Pius scolded, “I think this one perhaps deserves to live a little longer than we usually allow humans.”

Prank seemed disappointed. “I want him _ now_,” he intoned petulantly.

Argos sighed. “If we—” he paused for an instant, as if considering his next word, “—_enjoy _ him too much now, we won’t have the opportunity to witness his vaunted swordsmanship. Goodfellow claims he’s the best he’s ever seen.”

“For a human,” Piper added.

I wondered whether Robin had used that caveat also. 

“For a human.” 

Compared to his brother, compared to his fellows, compared to his vampire, compared to, compared to, compared to… But he’s good with a sword. For a human.

I heard it all the time.

Prank was still gazing at me longingly. “I won’t kill him,” he wheedled. “I only like to strangle them a little bit.”

“You broke the last human’s neck before we even got him out of his clothing,” Phobos pointed out conversationally, apparently unfazed by the two blades I still had pressed against him.

Prank shrugged. “He was brittle. They’re such fragile creatures. This one seems more...sturdy.” 

Argos shook his head. “We were planning on playing gladiator tonight anyway, weren’t we? I think this one already talked himself into the starring role.”

“But if he dies before we get to have him,” Prank pointed out, “what would be the point in bringing him here? Look at him! Who _ wouldn’t _want to violate him?”

They all looked at me, with the exception of Phobos, who didn’t have the luxury of turning around

“Maybe just a little, you know, oral relief?” Prank suggested forlornly.

The other pucks considered.

“Maybe we could at least see him naked,” Pius offered.

“That’s like unwrapping a candy bar and not eating it,” Piper observed.

“Maybe _ I _could have him and you could all watch?” Prank suggested.

“Why do _ you _ get to have him?” Piper demanded. “I’m the oldest. If anyone’s having him, it’s me!”

“You are _ not _the oldest!” Phobos protested. “I was raping and pillaging before you were even sentient!”

“You lie!” Piper drew his sword and pointed it directly at Phobos, which was a little redundant in my opinion, considering I already had two blades pointed at him.

“You only dare challenge me when I’m weaponless!”

“Then take back your weapons from this sheep and fight me!”

“I _ will _ fight you! And then the sheep is mine to pleasure myself with until the tournament!”

“You will _ never _best me! I shall win, and I shall take the sheep and do with him as I please!”

“Like Hell!”

And it was as if I wasn’t even standing there.

I sighed as the two pucks continued to insult one another whilst discussing the things they planned on doing to me once they’d bested the other, and it was honestly like a re-run of The Panic with the pucks trying to outdo each other before mounting anything they could get their over-used penises into.

Just as Piper had decided to run Phobos through with his sword, which wasn’t my favorite outcome to the argument, seeing as his sword would probably have gone straight through Phobos and into me, I decided I’d had enough.

As did Phobos.

His attempt to disarm me was actually fairly pathetic, but as I’d decided to shove him into Piper and take a chance I could run them both through simultaneously, it didn’t really matter.

As it happened, Phobos stumbled onto Piper’s sword himself, and while I was fairly sure the injury wouldn’t kill him, while the two of them were engaged in their dick-measuring duel I took the opportunity to slam into Prank, who was still busy giving himself the time of his life, and he in turn stumbled into Argos, both of whom ended up a tangle of limbs on the floor while Pius just stood there with his mouth open.

I didn’t even bother with him.

The door was open, I was armed, and all I needed was a way out of the manacle.

“Key,” I snapped, holding out my hand to Pius. “_Now_.”

Pius continued to stare at me with his mouth agape.

_ “Now!” _I repeated, a little more forcefully, holding the saber to his throat.

Pius blinked, before suddenly fishing in his trouser pocket, removing a small key and throwing it at me.

I quickly shoved the dagger into my waistband, caught the key left-handed and rammed it into the manacle, freeing myself of the chain before any of the pucks had really registered what was happening.

“Here,” I said, throwing the key at Umbriel before heading for the door. “If you want to come with me, all are welcome.”

Darting through the doorway, I took a second to assess my surroundings, a long, dimly-lit hallway leading to rough stairs being the only exit. And while I hated taking a singular escape route blind, in this instance, I figured whatever lay at the top of the stairs was preferable to being raped to death by five horny and fairly incompetent pucks after having to listen to them argue about who was going to do what to me first for the rest of the evening.

I couldn’t hear whether the other prisoners were following me, but the pucks were screaming and yelling at one another in recrimination, which I took as a good sign they might be distracted for a while.

Taking the first few stairs two at a time, I slowed as I neared the top, the saber drawn and the dagger once again in my left hand.

The door at the top of the stairs was partially ajar, and I pushed it open carefully, peering out into the corridor beyond before emerging fully.

The hallway was empty, and couldn’t have been more different from the one from which I’d just escaped.

Opulent marble and gold covered the floors, the walls and the ceilings, expensive draperies and art lining alcoves and recesses, and at the end of the hallway, past several closed doors painted white with what looked like gold leaf borders, was a foyer of some kind with a giant fountain as it’s centerpiece.

If there was a way out, I decided, it was that way.

Hurtling down the corridor, I reached the fountain unchallenged, stopping to again assess my surroundings as I gazed about the foyer area.

Not only was the fountain huge, but it also seemed to be dispensing wine rather than water, several naked statues of men, women, and other things I couldn’t quite identify cavorted at the base of the sculpture, the whole thing dominated by a huge statue of a puck carved to resemble the traditional artistic representation of the race, curly hair, naked, a pipe to his lips.

The only deviation was in the size of the puck’s penis, which clearly did not conform to the normal, but I knew for a fact this wasn’t actually the result of artistic license, but rather a fact, period.

I shuddered.

That was the closest I was getting to one of those things today.

The foyer was lined on each side by sweeping staircases, which led up to a mezzanine, with a huge stained glass skylight above, casting an other-worldly green and purple glow over the white and gold beneath.

Oddly, there were no other windows.

Despite the dire circumstances, I was kind of impressed by the sheer opulence of the construction.

But not impressed enough not to slam through the nearest doorway at the sound of voices and urgent footsteps behind me, finding myself in some kind of bath house or pool area which, unfortunately, was already occupied by about fifteen naked pucks.

I believe in this situation, Cal’s response would have been, “Fuck.”

I paused for a second, trying to decide whether turning around and running like hell would be the better part of valor in this situation.

When the naked pucks all simultaneously turned to look in my direction, retreat did, indeed, seem my preferred option.

Turning on my heel, I slammed back through the door and out into the foyer, where Argos and Pius appeared to be leading the charge up from the dungeons.

Quickly changing direction, I ran down the corridor to my left, no idea where I was heading, but fairly sure anywhere would be preferable to where I’d just been.

I was wrong.

The next door I opened made The Panic look like a day at the petting zoo.

I can honestly say I had never seen most of the positions being practised by various pucks with various males, females, and other things I wasn’t sure even existed in nature—or supernature.

I swallowed, glancing behind me to where the pucks from the dungeon were running towards me, closely followed by several of the naked pucks from the Turkish bath.

Again, Cal’s favorite word seemed more than appropriate.

Even _ I _didn’t stand much of a chance against twenty pucks, most of whom were naked and, by the looks of them, in a state of almost permanent arousal.

I had one chance, and that was finding some kind of exit to my left, away from the foyer and the rapidly approaching gang of pucks, but the second I started to run in that direction I heard a voice behind me yell,

“We know where your brother is. If you leave, we bring him here and he isn’t given the opportunity to escape.”

The voice was calm, casual, almost disinterested.

And, of course, I stopped in my tracks.

Turning, I saw one of the naked pucks step forward.

Judging by his lack of genitalia, he was Faunus, the puck who had pretended to be Robin at the start of The Panic.

The puck Robin had humiliated.

The puck who wanted Robin and, by extension, any of his friends, worse than dead.

While he might not have the equipment to rape me to death in the basic sense, I had absolutely no doubt he would find an equally horrendous end for me, just to pay Robin back for what he did to him at The Panic.

I was, to use another of Cal’s favorite phrases, completely screwed.

* * *

“No,” I flatly refused.

“But it’s your size!”

“No.”

“You’d look very fetching in it.”

“No.”

“You don’t really have a choice.”

I glanced at the vampire attempting to reason me into stripping off and putting on the skimpy gladiator outfit. There definitely didn’t seem to be half as much fabric involved as there had been in the costume Russell Crowe had worn in the film. Although there did seem a ridiculous amount of leather.

“If the pucks want to see me fight, they can see me fight in my own clothing,” I told him.

He sighed. “Sweetie, I understand your wish to protect your modesty, but it’s not like there’s any possible outcome to this evening where you don’t end up naked anyway.”

I frowned at him.

“It’s an orgy, dear.”

I continued to frown.

“And you’re the main attraction.”

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “No,” I repeated. “And if you even think of coming near me with that ridiculous bottle of massage oil you might find it jammed down your throat.”

I rubbed at my wrists distractedly.

The manacles were tight and the chains short, my arms yanked up above my head while my ankles were now attached to the wall by a length of chain that could probably be measured in single digits. In millimeters.

They’d put me in a cell by myself this time, chained me up where I stood, but thankfully not tried to do anything else to me while they scuttled off to decide what punishment they deemed suitable for my escape attempt.

Whether the pornographic gladiator costume was it, I wasn’t quite sure.

The vampire costumier sighed. “Look, either you put this on of your own free will, or several of those pucks arguing about which one of them gets to have you first will I’m sure be more than happy to get you out of your own clothes and into the costume.”

I took a breath. _ Interesting… _

“Alright,” I said shortly.

The vampire squinted at me. “Really?”

“Unchain me and I’ll put on the costume.”

The vampire snorted. “How stupid do you think I am?” he asked.

I chose not to answer on the grounds I believed that was probably meant as a rhetorical question.

“I can quite easily get those clothes off you and the costume on without taking off the chains,” the vampire went on to inform me.

I didn’t ask him how. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

I sighed.

“Then I refer you to my previous answer,” I told him. “No.”

Faunus chose that moment to swagger into my cell and, even though he was now fully clothed, I knew it was him just from the way he walked.

“And how is Robin’s favorite little lamb this evening?” he asked me, running his hand down my cheek and along my jawline. When I didn’t answer him he produced a knife which he pressed against my throat, inclined his head to one side and added, “I didn’t quite hear your answer, my lovely.”

I scowled at him, and continued to maintain my silence.

“He won’t put on the outfit,” the vampire piped up from over his shoulder. “I told him what would happen, but he’s a stubborn one.”

Faunus nodded, running the tip of his knife down from my throat towards my collarbone, the blade catching in the first button of my shirt, which he proceeded to cut off with a flourish. “We’ll see about that.”

I swallowed, the puck’s knife gliding further down my chest to snip off the next button. And the next. And the next.

My shirt now unfastened, he ran the blade slowly across my belly, before starting on my belt buckle.

“I should tell you,” I said calmly, “while I confess I’ve never played strip poker, if that’s your intention I will probably beat you. I’m very good at card games. And I understand you don’t really have the equipment to do much of anything else undressing me might ordinarily lead to.”

Faunus’ expression never faltered, in fact, a low chuckle began to emanate from him. “I have many ways to pleasure myself with you that don’t require genitalia,” he told me. “And I’ll be more than happy to demonstrate each and every one on you later this evening. If you survive the tournament.”

I sighed, as if the current position of his hand on me didn’t bother me. “And I suppose it’s too much to ask to be allowed to be fully clothed during this tournament of yours?”

Faunus sniggered. “Where’s the fun in that?” he asked, popping open the top button of my jeans.

I swallowed, took a breath, tried to think about something—anything—other than what Faunus seemed intent on doing to me.

“And we have another new exhibit for you to fight,” he added, sliding his knife down so the tip was pressed against my navel. “One of your own kind.”

I squinted at him. “My own kind?” I echoed. “I thought you rarely brought humans here?”

“Oh we don’t,” Faunus confirmed. “Only in exceptional circumstances. You’re like mayflies. Such a short life expectancy.”

“Especially when kidnapped by a gang of amorous and amoral pucks,” I observed.

He smiled brightly at me. “Is it our fault you break so easily? Most of you aren’t worth our time. One ‘wham, bam, thank you puck’ and you’re done. You very rarely survive longer than that.”

“And yet you’ve abducted two of us today?”

Faunus squinted at me. “I never said your opponent would be human.”

I frowned. “You said, ‘one of my kind.’”

Faunus sniggered. “Doesn’t mean he’s human. How entertaining would that be? I’m aware of your reputation. Another human wouldn’t last five minutes in a tournament against you.”

“I’m flattered,” I drawled flatly.

“Don’t be. Your opponent would most likely kill you, if allowed. But we can’t allow that. My brothers—all of my brothers who frequent this place—are desperate to have you. And him. Neither of you can die.”

“So it’s all for show?”

“Of course!” Faunus confirmed. “Hence the costume!”

I drew in a short breath. “And how many of your brothers are here tonight?” I asked as casually as I was able.

Faunus inclined his head. “Ohhhh, I’d say, forty. Fifty. Ball park.”

I swallowed.

“And Robin never knew of this place?”

Faunus frowned at me. “Oh, heavens no! Goodfellow has this odd morality that really doesn’t fit with polite puck society. He has such a quaint insistence on consent from his sexual partners, it’s almost sickening.”

“Consent. Imagine that.”

Faunus didn’t reply, just continued to gaze at my midriff thoughtfully. “Now how to get you out of your underwear without unchaining you…”

He made a move towards me with his knife and I grit my jaw before snapping, “Alright.”

He paused. “I’m sorry, my love? What did you say?”

I virtually growled at him. “I’ll put on your stupid costume.”

He patted my shoulder condescendingly. “Now there’s a good little lamb…”

* * *

“Fifty-seven years I’ve been here and I’ve never seen anyone look as good in one of those stupid gladiator costumes as you do,” Umbriel told me sardonically.

I scowled at him, trying to pull the leather and fabric skirt of the thing further down towards my knees. The Roman word “cingulum” and Greek “pteruges” popped into my head, and for the first time in my life I realized knowing a ridiculous amount of historical minutiae wasn’t always helpful.

“I look ridiculous,” I told him, tugging short-temperedly at the manacle around my wrist currently chained to his. “And why have they chained us together? Surely we could both just try to escape?”

“You’re a flight risk,” Umbriel told me. “As I said, I have been here fifty-seven years. I am not. Or so they believe.”

I sighed as I looked down at myself. “This is so humiliating,” I murmured. 

“Bad enough they’re going to orgy you to death, but they could at least let you keep your clothes on for the event, correct?” Umbriel said on a squint.

I continued to scowl at him. “Not funny,” I told him. “And this is as naked as they’re getting me, let me assure you.”

“Son, I don’t really think that’s going to be up to you. My first tournament? They let us fight then forced us to make out with each other _ before _they started on us themselves.”

I shuddered. “Do you know who my opponent is?” I asked.

Umbriel shrugged. “I’d lay odds he’s blond.”

“That doesn’t help me very much.”

We were sitting on a wooden bench outside what I presumed was some sort of auditorium or arena. The occasional cheer or boo could be heard emanating through the rafters, and Umbriel had told me there was usually some kind of warm-up event. Sometimes fighting, sometimes dancing, sometimes stripping. Or sometimes all three at once.

I wasn’t sure what was going on in there at the moment, but the occasional puck kept coming out either to puke or to grab one of the “exhibits” and slam them up against the nearest hard surface and rock their world.

A couple of them had tried to grab hold of me but I think after I broke the first one’s wrist and the second one’s foot the others decided to give me a wide berth.

“Listen,” Umbriel said suddenly, catching hold of my biceps. “They’re not going to let you die in the tournament, but they’re not going to care how badly you’re hurt as long as they can still take it in turns to pleasure themselves with you afterwards, understand?”

I nodded mutely.

“So you need to fight to protect yourself. You can bet the other guy will. And then after...when they have you...just let them have you. Don’t struggle. Don’t fight. Just let them get on with it. That’s your best chance of surviving the evening.”

“Like you?” I asked. “Is that how you’ve survived fifty-seven years here?”

Umbriel shrugged. “I had a protector,” he said. “At first. I was his favorite. The other pucks were afraid of him, so didn’t come near me for fear of what he would do to them. He was the jealous type.”

“Was? Past tense?”

Umbriel shrugged again. “He died a couple of years ago. Gypsies, so I’m told.”

I swallowed. “Are you referring to Hob?” I asked carefully.

Umbriel paused, suddenly squinting at me suspiciously. “What kind of surname is Leandros anyway?” he asked.

I raised my chin a little. “Greek Rom,” I replied truthfully.

Umbriel drew in a long, slow breath. “Gypsy? It was you?”

I shook my head. “My brother. Hob was attempting to use me as a blood sacrifice at the time. Cal was protecting me.”

Umbriel made no reply, just looked away from me.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, and had I not been chained to him, I would probably have started pacing. 

I hated this waiting.

Buddha taught patience, but when one was waiting to be murdered or...worse...patience wasn’t always easily attainable.

“Why didn’t you follow me?” I asked Umbriel at length. “When I tried to escape?”

The peri shrugged. “Many have tried,” he said. “All have failed.” He gazed at me appraisingly for a second, before adding, “But if anyone can escape this place, it’s you, human or not.”

A loud roar emanated from the auditorium, and one of the pucks strode over to us and began unlocking the manacles.

“Come along, little lamb,” he said to me. “Time to take you to slaughter.”

Umbriel caught my wrist before I could leave, holding me fast as he looked right into my eyes.

“Hob was an evil cancer walking this earth. Your brother did us all a favor.”

I nodded my agreement, but was prevented from discussing the matter further by the puck grabbing my arm and dragging me towards the auditorium entrance.

“If you survive,” he murmured into my ear, suddenly pushing me face first against the wall and quite annoyingly invading my personal space, “then I’m going to make sure I’m the first one who gets to you. The first one inside you. The first of so, so many. You’re going to be one popular sheep by the end of the evening.”

I didn’t dignify the puck’s comment with a response, just waited for him to further manhandle me out into the auditorium, which he did, but not before putting his hand up my stupid leather costume and fondling me like I belonged to him.

By the time he released me, the noise from the arena was almost deafening, and he shoved me hard between my shoulder blades so that I stumbled before finding myself looking up at a wide circle of tiered seating, not unlike a miniature version of the Coliseum, which I’m sure was probably the idea behind its construction.

I hadn’t seen this many pucks gathered in one place since The Panic, and while there had certainly been a threat to my virtue at that time, it was nothing compared to what I was assured would be happening to me here in the very near future.

I swallowed. Took a breath. Ran my finger along my mala bead bracelet. And hoped if this was indeed my last night on Earth, Robin would survive to take care of Cal.

Cal didn’t really need anyone to take care of him anymore, but at the end of the day, he was still my little brother, no matter how old he got.

I squinted up into the bright lights, trying to tune out some of the more pornographic of the chanting going on around me, and looked first for a weapon, and second for my opponent.

I saw neither.

And then I was being driven backward and slammed against the barrier encircling the arena area, the air knocked completely out of my lungs as an assailant in a black leather hood rammed the flat side of a broadsword against my throat.

I gulped in a breath.

This sure as hell wasn't going to be a fair fight if he came to it fully armed and I did not.

He certainly wasn’t a puck, that was for sure, so that at least meant Robin, for now, was not in danger.

He was taller than me by a good couple of inches, broad across the shoulders, with powerfully muscular arms and a ripped torso that had been displayed to the maximum effect in a costume similar to the one I’d been forced into.

He smelled of sweat and cinnamon, and something wholly familiar that had me wracking my memory in an attempt to identify exactly what that could be.

And although he had me at a very great disadvantage, rather than simply taking off my head with his broadsword, he inclined his masked face down towards me, shoved me hard and hissed, “Stop. Struggling.”

I’d been trying to shove the hilt of the sword away from me, mostly in an effort to avoid having my windpipe crushed as my opponent lifted me physically off the ground by ramming it against my throat and sliding me up the side of the barrier.

I choked, squinted at him, was once again assaulted by the familiar smell.

And then I noticed the scar across his jaw, the only part of his face visible.

Besides his pale blue eyes.

“Ishiah?” I hissed right on back. “Is that you?”

“Niko, by all that is holy, _ hold still_!”

I did. Instantly.

I made a show of trying to get free of the broadsword, but the kick I’d been planning that would probably have broken Ishiah’s leg was, for now, put on the back burner.

The peri drew in a breath.

“How...how did you…?”

“Police report. Two of your students reported you being abducted by a man matching Robin’s description. I had an associate hack traffic cams, but when that failed to reveal your location, and I heard from a reliable source that the pucks were also looking to abduct me—”

“You allowed yourself to be taken?”

Ishiah nodded. “They want to punish Robin. And have a thing for blonds.”

I would have had to have been an idiot had I not noticed almost immediately the physical resemblance between Ishiah and myself. Even Cal had observed that Ishiah would be mistaken far more easily for my brother than Cal himself was ever likely to be.

It wasn’t until Cal and I discovered Robin’s connection to the peri that I made my own connection as to why Robin had seemed so fascinated with me from the outset.

And now we were both here, in danger from Robin’s brothers and precisely because of our connection to him.

“You have a plan?” I hissed, still trying to get my feet back on the ground.

Ishiah had his left hand on my hip, pressing me against the barrier to try and make it look as if he was still holding me up by his sword against my throat, but that didn’t make it any more comfortable.

“Subdermal tracker,” he explained. “Robin, Cal and Promise are coming for us. Of the three of them, I would say the pucks should be most afraid of Promise. She is _ not _a happy vampire.”

I almost smiled. “She doesn’t like anyone manhandling her property,” I replied, just as someone suddenly grabbed my braid from behind and started to yank me backwards and halfway over the barrier.

The puck who suddenly had his hands all over me barked, “This is supposed to be a duel, not a coffee break,” before grabbing my jaw and trying to ram his tongue down my throat.

For a second I thought about Umbriel’s advice, to just let them get on with it.

But screw that.

I’d been fighting for one thing or another since I was four years old, and I wasn’t about to stop now.

I could taste the puck’s grassy blood after I bit his tongue, which he withdrew with a yelp before Ishiah slammed the hilt of his broadsword into his face, breaking his nose and at least one of his cheekbones in the process.

The puck let go of me with a wail, nursing his injuries as his fellows laughed riotously at him.

“The sheep has spirit!” one of them observed.

“The sheep’s _ mine,_” Ishiah responded, grabbing the waistband of my stupid skirt and yanking me back into the arena before the multiple hands grasping at me could drag me out into the audience.

Feet back on the ground, I glanced up at the peri, who was scowling bloody murder at the gathered pucks behind me.

“Almighty Lord, half of them are naked already,” he murmured, suddenly shoving me away from him and swinging his sword at me as if to take off my head.

One of the few pucks who was still clothed threw a sword in my direction, which I caught and managed to use to deflect Ishiah’s swing, the puck leering at me as he yelled, “I expect to be first in line for that mouth of yours if you survive!”

I took a short breath, examining the sword as Ishiah spun once more towards me, his broadsword almost taking off my arm this time.

The sword I’d been given was clearly inferior to any of my own, particularly my favorite katana, but it was sturdy and able to meet the force of the far larger weapon Ishiah was wielding without too much effort.

Of course, Ishiah wasn’t really trying to kill me.

I hoped.

“I thought you knew how to spar?” he demanded, taking another low swing which had me jumping over his blade and rolling back into a standing position just in time to swing my own sword at his head.

He deflected easily, but I had to admit, the move had probably looked fairly convincing from the audience’s perspective.

“Better?” I asked.

Ishiah grinned at me. “Now you’re getting it.” He took another swing, which I parried, but he then proceeded to slide the blade of his sword down my own, the hilts locked together as if we were both struggling for supremacy. Which we might have been. Ishiah was hard to read. Probably even harder to read than I was.

“How long do we have to keep this up?” I asked, my arms straining to keep Ishiah’s blade pointed downwards, even if he wasn’t putting a whole lot of effort into killing me.

“Till they get here,” the peri replied blankly. “And as I have no idea where ‘here’ might be, I cannot estimate their time of arrival.”

Ishiah then proceeded to grab me by the scruff of my neck and spin me away from him, the hilt of his sword catching mine so it flew out of my hand and several feet away from me on the sandy floor.

_ Shit. _ If Ishiah ever decided he _ really _wanted to kill me, I wasn’t sure I’d stand much of a chance.

I glanced at him for a second, trying to figure out which way he was likely to go.

I’d become lazy, I realized. Sparring with Cal meant I always—mostly—knew what he was likely to do next.

With Ishiah, I had no clue.

The assembled pucks went wild as I dived for the sword, Ishiah suddenly looming over me with one foot pressing down against my wrist so that even after retrieving my weapon I wasn’t able to do much with it.

“You’re not trying very hard,” he admonished me.

“I don’t want to kill you,” I remonstrated.

“That seems unlikely,” Ishiah returned on a scoff, which kind of annoyed me, truth be told. “I was always impressed by your technique—”

“—For a human?” I finished for him, scissoring my ankles around his right leg and twisting it right out from under him.

He went down on one knee with a surprised grunt, the gathered pucks signaling their admiration by what sounded horrifically like a group orgasm.

Momentarily distracted by the sound, I glanced for a second at the, largely naked, crowd of pucks, many of whom appeared to have become distracted themselves by various guests or, I suspected, other prisoners they had with them on the benches.

From behind me, Ishiah took advantage of my moment’s hesitation, catching hold of one of the straps across the back of my stupid costume, yanking me backwards and over his still-raised knee, and I landed with a thud on my back, Ishiah’s full weight suddenly on top of me and his blade pressed once again against my throat.

The pucks made the communal orgasm sound again, and I was pretty sure it was at the sight of the peri on top of me rather than what they were doing to their “friends.”

“What if we’re in Syria?” I asked, continuing our previous conversation as if we hadn’t been fighting each other in the meantime. “Or Australia? We can’t continue pretending to fight each other forever! Pretty soon the pucks are going to catch on and being gang raped isn’t high on my to-do list, believe it or not.”

“We’re not getting gang raped,” Ishiah told me, looking up at something above us thoughtfully.

This time I took advantage of his distraction, bringing my knee up to ram in his groin and shoving him off me as he grunted in surprise.

“What in _ Hell_—?”

“Sorry,” I apologized, almost sincerely. “The pucks were enjoying seeing you on top of me a little bit too much for my liking!”

Jumping to my feet, I raised my sword once more as Ishiah fought to regain his equilibrium.

“If Robin didn’t like you quite as much as he does,” he snarled, “I’d take off your head for that little stunt, Niko Leandros.”

He rose to his feet slowly, flexing his muscles in a way that was actually pretty terrifying up close, even if you _ were _ fairly sure he had no intention of hurting you.

I took a step back. “I’m sure Robin will enjoy providing you with first aid for the injured area,” I told him sardonically, and he actually laughed at that.

“You’re quite entertaining when you’re not glowering at anything that comes within ten feet of your brother,” Ishiah told me, again swinging his broadsword at me, this time in a wide arc that was easy to deflect.

I inclined my head with a smirk. “I keep telling people I’m not the entertainment, but no one seems to believe me.”

“These sheep aren’t even trying!” I heard one of the pucks off to my right yell suddenly. “I say we start the orgy now!”

“I’ve got a claim to the peri!” another chimed in.

“The sheep’s mine first!”

“Neither of you are having them, I want to see them having each other first!”

“For gods’ sake, someone just get them naked already!”

The pucks had obviously begun to lose patience with the tournament section of the entertainment, and it was at this point they started to swarm over the barrier and into the arena, and I glanced up at Ishiah as I tightened my grip on my sword.

“What was that about us not getting gang raped?” I asked, just as a the peri grabbed me by the hair, swung me backwards and drew me up and against him so that his mouth was pressed against mine and his left hand was gripping my shoulder blade while his right arm encircled my waist.

I was so surprised by the maneuver that I actually forgot to protest at his manhandling of me, and when he finally came up for air all I could mumble was, “What...that...why…?” in a completely pathetic attempt to string together a sentence.

“Sorry,” he murmured in my ear as he proceeded to nuzzle at it. “Needed a distraction.”

He indicated the encroaching crowd of pucks, who had all stopped in their tracks to enjoy the show.

“Oh,” was all I managed to say. 

“Better me than them, right?” Ishiah said, again looking upwards, towards whatever he had been examining previously.

I nodded mutely. “A little warning might have been—”

“Shut up and hold tight,” Ishiah cut me off. “Consider that a warning.”

“What are you…?”

Ishiah’s wings were pretty damn impressive, and Cal had once voiced his opinion that he probably only ever got them out when he and Robin were, in Cal’s words, “getting it on.”

Obviously, this wasn’t true, as he also brought them out when Robin was in danger, or when someone, usually Cal, had pissed him off.

Right now, his intention appeared to be to use them to fly.

“Wait!” I started to protest. “I’m not sure this is such—”

But either Ishiah couldn’t hear me over the powerful beating of his wings, or he just wasn’t interested in my misgivings.

The next thing I knew, we were airborne and heading straight upwards to whatever Ishiah had been looking at, which, it turned out, was a tiny skylight set high in the roof of the auditorium.

Holding on for dear life, I tried not to look down, but couldn’t resist checking the expressions of surprised fury on the faces of the gathered pucks, the objects of their quite substantial lusts apparently about to fly right out the window.

“Poor little pucks,” Ishiah crooned. “No orgy for them tonight.”

He slowed as he neared the window, hovering slightly to one side, and I thanked my lucky stars I’d managed to dissuade the vampire costumier from covering me in massage oil, as I’m pretty sure I would have slipped right out of Ishiah’s grasp the second we got into the air.

“Sword,” he barked. _ “Now.” _

It took me a second to figure out what he wanted me to do, but as soon as I caught on I threw my sword at the skylight, hilt first, the metal shattering the glass and causing it to rain down on the pucks below us.

“Serves them right,” the peri proclaimed at the sounds of dismay emanating from below us, heading for the now open skylight and up and out into the night sky.

“We’re still in New York,” I gasped as the familiar skyline came into view. “Roosevelt Island?”

“Those brazen sons of bitches!” Ishiah spat. “Right In Robin’s backyard all this time!”

“How did they keep this from him?” I asked. “For years? I thought he knew everything about this city?”

“That’s what he wants everyone to think,” Ishiah replied, heading downwards towards Lighthouse Park, beneath which appeared to be where the pucks’ Menagerie had been secreted.

“Wait, wait!” I protested, as my feet finally hit the ground. “We can’t just leave! Some of those prisoners have been there for decades!”

“We’re not leaving,” Ishiah told me. “We’re awaiting reinforcements.”

Which is when the light ten feet away from us began to darken into that familiar stain on reality as an Auphe gate ripped a hole in the world and my brother appeared in front of me, flanked by Robin, Promise, and several of the peris from the Ninth Circle.

Robin’s face was truly terrifying.

“Dear gods!” he burst out, looking me over quite thoroughly before doing the same to Ishiah, who still had his arm encircling my waist. “This...this...is my absolute, ultimate pornographic Halloween orgy fright fest costume party fantasy of all time made flesh!”

I managed to disengage myself from Ishiah somewhat awkwardly, making another attempt at pulling down the stupid skirt thing as the peri pushed one of the leather straps back up onto my shoulder, from where it had slipped during transit. 

“Not. One. Word,” I snapped at my brother, who had taken out his cellphone and was busy taking photographs. “And I’m fine, thank you, little brother. I appreciate your concern for my wellbeing.”

Cal couldn’t even speak for sniggering, finally managing, “Glad you’re not dead there, Maximus. But _ hell_, Cyrano, do I even want to know what those pucks got up to with you in there if they could convince you to dress like _ that_?”

I sighed. “No, you do not,” I told him, and I’d never been more serious about anything in my life.

Promise, meanwhile, was busy looking me up and down in a not-dissimilar way to the way Robin had been, before asking thoughtfully, “Do you think we can keep the costume?”

I rolled my eyes at her, and she snorted in glee.

“You really do look quite fetching in it,” she added, biting her lip invitingly.

At least _ she _seemed happy to see me alive and with my virtue intact.

Robin still couldn’t seem to string a sentence together. Finally, he turned to Ishiah and asked, “Beloved, please tell me you at least got to kiss him.”

Ishiah frowned, leaning towards me and mumbling, “Never, _ ever _ tell Robin I kissed you,” in my ear, before shaking his head at the puck. “I would never have taken advantage of the poor boy in such a way. The romantic interests of a peri would be far too intense for a human to comprehend.”

I sighed. “When you’ve all finished disparaging myself and the whole of humanity, there are some prisoners down in that building who need rescuing. I know I’m not exactly dressed for the occasion, but if anyone would like to help me suitably chastise a bunch of amoral, sexually regressive pucks whose idea of consent is the object of their lust not threatening to bite off their penis, then feel free to join me.”

I turned to head back toward the building from where I’d just been rescued, the broken skylight and the one above the foyer all that was visible above ground. They appeared to have both been disguised as spotlights, which was quite ingenious for pucks.

I only realized my mistake when I heard Robin make the same orgasm sound the other pucks had been making during Ishiah’s and my duel.

“Crap,” I admonished myself.

“Only Achilles had an ass as perfect,” Robin murmured. “Did you ever see such a beautiful thing? Seriously, though, Niko, feel free to continue walking away from me. I’m going to ask Cal to film you on his cellphone. Maybe I could sell copies on the internet.”

I paused for a second, before continuing to walk away from the puck, feeling suddenly weary and in need of several layers of warm clothing.

“I believe I have the copyright on that ass,” I heard Promise insist from behind me, and when I glanced over my shoulder she’d positioned herself between Robin and his line of sight up my stupid skirt. “If you want to sell videos of it, I shall demand royalties.”

Robin sniggered. “I’m sure our people could hammer out a mutually beneficial deal,” he told her, and he almost sounded serious.

I took a deep breath, continuing my march towards where I hoped we would find a way down into the Menagerie which didn’t involve being airlifted by a peri, when Ishiah suddenly appeared by my side.

“You’ve done well today,” he told me shortly, and that was praise indeed from him.

“For a human?” I asked a little bitterly.

“You do your race credit,” the peri said. “Never forget that. It cannot be easy for you. Fighting alongside Paien so much stronger than you are. So much less likely to break. Surrounded by monsters from such a young age. We often forget you’re only human. Sometimes it doesn’t seem possible.”

“I believe that was meant as a compliment,” I hazarded. “So thank you. But sometimes you Paien underestimate humans. We are not all weak and breakable. I can kick the majority of supernatural creatures’ asses six ways to Sunday on a good day. You don’t have to be superhuman or supernatural to fight the darkness.”

Ishiah nodded. “No,” he agreed. “You just need to be stubborn and resourceful and incapable of giving up, even when all seems lost. You are correct, Niko. We insult you when we make allowances for your humanity. I shall not make that mistake again.”

I glanced sideways at him, catching the tiny smirk playing on his lips.

“If you ever want some pointers on sparring,” I told him, “feel free to give me a call.”

He actually sniggered at that. “And if you ever wish to repeat your performance as Lois Lane to my Superman, then give _ me _a call.”

I snorted. “I believe a pink evening dress would be preferable to the current fashion abomination I’m wearing.”

“I believe I wear the costume better,” Ishiah proclaimed shortly, before repeating Promise’s earlier assessment. “Although you look very fetching in it too.” He squinted at me good naturedly before adding, “For a human.”

  
  


**The End**


End file.
